


Here With Me

by TheOtherOdinson



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Gen, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, not AOU compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherOdinson/pseuds/TheOtherOdinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton had a god mess with his head. But he's okay.</p><p>Really. He is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here With Me

It was the time after that got him.

After the invasion ended. After Thor dragged his psycho brother back to Asgard. After things settled and a sense of normalcy resumed.

That was when Clint Barton came apart.

Natasha was there. Some sense that tied them together brought her to him when the nightmares started. The third time in as many nights he woke drenched in cold sweat, he wandered out of his bedroom to find her standing in his cramped kitchen making breakfast.

Wordlessly, he pulled out one the stools set up against the living room side of the room divider that served as his dining table and sat. She pushed a mug of strong, black coffee at him. He wrapped both hands around the cup, breathing in the warmth before sipping at it slowly. If he gripped the mug too tight as a means to keep his hands from shaking, neither of them mentioned it. Nat slid a plate in front of him, choosing to stay on the kitchen side of the divider and eat her food standing up at the counter. He ate the plate of runny eggs and toast that was more warm bread than anything.

They didn’t talk.

Clint didn’t tell her he dreamed of choking the life out of her while Loki watched. Didn’t tell her how Loki smiled at him after Nat’s body went limp, the light gone from her eyes. Didn’t tell her the way Loki smiled at him made him feel willing to do it all over again - do anything - if only he would smile at Clint like that again.

He didn’t tell her that he woke up every night heart pounding in fear when he saw Loki being dragged away by nameless shadows and Clint was powerless to stop it.

He didn’t tell her any of it. He didn’t have to.

She knew.

Clint let her keep him busy. Even with the invasion behind them, there was no shortage of tasks piling up to keep them occupied. SHIELD was eager to resume business as usual, taking the busier the better approach. Clint was okay with that.

Mostly.

When things got too bad inside his head, he went to ground. Put distance between himself and his life and tried to find room to breathe. 

He went to Canada, travelled far into the barren, unforgiving north and hunkered down in an old hunting shack. There he dreamed of losing Loki to the snow and frost.

He hiked and camped around the Grand Canyon for days on end. Spoke to no one. Dreamed of Loki falling into an abyss.

He knew Nat covered for him with Fury. Knew Fury let her. Knew both of them hoped this would the time he came back to them whole.

They were still waiting. As was he.

Each time Clint ran away, he sent Nat a gift as an apology. She never mentioned them. After he returned from two weeks of dragging his ass around Vegas - there he dreamed of Loki surrounded by shining beacons of light, trying to speak but Clint couldn't hear him - he saw the little arrow necklace around her neck. He knew he was forgiven.

Eventually, his mind became his own again.

Mostly.

When SHIELD went down in flames, Clint was three weeks into a bender in Tijuana. Once again he'd proven useless in having Fury's back. Sometimes he dreamed his aim rang true that night. That Loki smiled at him and said "well done" as they stepped over Fury's body. He was almost sober by the time he made it back to DC. Rogers was waiting to give him the unofficial run down of how things played out. Finding out Fury was okay released some of the cramping in his stomach.

Rogers handed Clint a sealed envelope. "Natasha asked me to give this to you when you came back."

Clint nodded his thanks. Her letter was short and to the point. It was her turn to go to ground for awhile. She needed him to be okay while she was gone. _Help Steve_ , her letter told him.

He did. He tried. For whatever reason, Rogers tolerated his efforts. Clint chose not to examine that too closely. Or at all. When Nat sent word two months later of where she was holed up, Clint jumped on a plane and went overseas to join her in exile.

The little Captain America shield-shaped keychain he gave her when he got there made her smile. They stayed in a little one bedroom apartment in Romania for nearly three months. She still said nothing everytime he woke drenched in sweat. Just rubbed his back while he tried to catch his breath and will his heart to stop racing. If the beads of moisture on his face were more tears than sweat, well, neither of them commented on that either.

Eventually reality re-asserted itself. They came back to their cramped apartment one afternoon to find Fury waiting for them. It was time to go back to work. As much as it bothered him to see Natasha wary of Fury after everything they'd been through, Clint welcomed the distraction. Fury surprised him. Instead of the usual 'seek out and protect or kill' he'd grown used to over the years, Fury had a new kind of mission to send him on. Clint had never thought of himself as being much of a recruiter. But Fury had a point. Who else could would have given Nat a chance to come over to their side?

While he missed Nat, Clint found his new purpose invigorating. He wasn't sure what it was about channeling his focus into second-chances that made him feel so alive, but he wasn't going to knock it. Especially as the nightmares began to fade.

Mostly.

Then came the second alien invasion.

By the time Clint got wind of it the show was over. He was in Australia at the time, sound asleep in a shitty hotel in Melbourne. He awoke just as his cell stopped ringing. It started up again just as he picked it up to check for a message. It was Fury, telling him to stand by, but be ready in case they needed him in London. Nat called him an hour later to tell him Thor had returned and taken care of the problem. No clean-up team required. 

Nat told him to go back to sleep. He did.

She filled him in the following morning on what had happened in London, and in Asgard beforehand. And some other place, a dead world the aliens had come from, the name of which Clint couldn't pronounce if he tried. She waited until the end of her briefing to tell him what happened to Loki, then asked if he wanted her to come to Melbourne.

"Nah," he lied. "I'm good."

He spent the next three days holed up in the room drinking. Every time he cried he told himself it was relief.

When his nightmares came back he dreamed of Loki falling.

The next time he found himself stateside, he purchased a small farm. At least, it had been a farm once. Long ago. Possibly decades. Now it was a tucked far away from any signs of civilization plot of land that no one else wanted. It was overgrown with grass and weeds dotted with a few run down buildings, including a decent sized house. Clint suddenly found himself spending every free moment watching do-it-yourself home reno videos on YouTube. Slowly, over months, he worked his way through the house, ripping up old floors, knocking down walls. Making it his own. Building his safe haven.

Natasha worried. She didn't say it, but he knew. She thought he was losing it. Whenever he lost days working on the farm, she showed up. She brought food and the odd piece of furniture. She brought along knick-knacks she probably thought were cute, spending time wandering through the house looking for the perfect spot to place them. The clock hanging in the kitchen with the bow and arrow shaped hands was neat looking. He liked the little trio of porcelain statues of saints arranged on his nightstand - Sebastian, George, and Jude.

He wasn't too sure about the little doll-shaped doily thing sitting on the back of his toilet, covering a roll of toilet paper. That thing was just weird.

Sometimes she brought Rogers with her. Or Steve, as he insisted Clint call him. He hadn't really spent a whole lot of time with the man, but he seemed okay. Nat trusted him. That was all Clint needed to know. Steve was more than willing to help Clint with whatever project he was working on when he was there. 

The day his house was finally finished, Clint kicked back in the overstuffed comfy chair Nat brought him - and made him carry in - and drank beers with Nat and Steve. 

"The place looks great. Must be a relief to finally have it done, huh?" If it ever felt strange hanging around with Captain America, Clint couldn't remember. Not with the man seated on the sofa across from him, working his way through his third beer.

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "It is."

They spent the rest of the day hanging out together. They ate and laughed a lot. Clint too. He felt light and realized he was happy. He saw the moment Nat realized it, too. The happy smile she gave him spoke volumes about how worried she'd been. He smiled back at her. It was all right. He was okay.

He should have known it wouldn't last.

Clint was scouting around a small town in Northern France, trying to follow up a lead on young mutant Fury was interested in knowing more about when there was an explosion of chatter - unofficial and official - about an incident about three hours further north. The reports conflicted with each other. Some said it was another invasion. Some claimed an asteroid hit. Others said it was a bomb.  All agreed there was some kind of high powered fight going on amidst the destruction. He wasted no time in setting out. Fury sent him a message telling him to try to get eyes on what was going on without getting too close. Nat followed up with a message that Stark and Thor were already en route. She and Rogers were behind them.

"b careful," read the last line of her text.

He made good time. The hot zone turned out to be well into a heavily wooded area that took him nearly an hour on foot to reach after abandoning his vehicle by the side of a rural road. He sent out a message with his coordinates and the direction he was going before heading too far into the woods. Clint worked his way into the hot zone slow and cautious.  He tried to send out another message and found his phone had no signal. He pushed forward. 

It didn't take long to find the epicenter of whatever went down. It did look like there was some kind of blast, downed trees everywhere, the earth scrubbed raw from - something. Finding dead Chitauri strewn about did not a happy archer make. He checked his phone again. Still a no go. He made a careful circuit of the area, not finding anything other than bodies and destruction. 

He made the decision to to retreat and wait for back-up when there was motion along his peripheral vision. He let an arrow fly without pause, hitting the Chitauri coming up on him right through the face. He saw two more coming at him and backed up, shooting as he went. As the last one dropped, Clint took one more step back, foot on solid ground. Or so he thought. He lost his balance as his foot went straight through the earth and he toppled down through a hole he couldn't see. 

Clint tried to cushion his fall but didn't have much time to move and still landed hard. A sharp crack signaled the loss of his bow as he hit the ground. He rolled over onto his stomach with a groan.  He ignored the pain to push himself up with his forearms and take stock of his situation. He wasn't sure how far he'd fallen, or how he hadn't noticed a hole in the ground big enough to fall through. At least it wasn't very dark. It seemed oddly bright for a hole in the ground. Clint pulled himself up on his hands and knees. It didn't feel like anything was broken. Besides his bow. He breathed deeply. His ribs were sore, but his breathing seemed unaffected.

And then he realized he wasn't the only one breathing.

"Ah, Barton. How fortuitous we should meet again."

He fell back on his ass, drew his sidearm, and aimed before he could blink. Then he did blink. Was he hallucinating? Maybe he'd hit his head.

"You're dead," he told the ghost.

Loki lifted an eyebrow at him. "Am I? How inconvenient."

Clint blinked again, still unsure if his eyes were lying to him. Maybe he was out cold? Maybe it was another nightmare? Little different than the normal fare. Loki wasn't usually laying sprawled out in the dirt looking like hell had chewed him up and spit him back out again for being such an asshole.

Maybe it was Clint who was dead? Had the fall killed him? It would explain how he was sitting in a big hole in the ground with a dead god, complete with freaky, floating fairy lights that lit the place up like it was early dawn.

"I take it that was your party," Clint indicated above them with a jerk of his chin. His gun didn't waver. He had a full load and a clear shot. Even if it didn't kill him, he'd bet emptying a clip into Loki's face would hurt like a bitch. It might even be worth it for the half second or so it would take for Loki to slaughter him.

Loki gave him an odd look, like he couldn't believe Clint had to ask. "Ah. Yes. I suppose it was."

"Be real nice if you took the show to someone else's planet."

Loki laughed, shallow and breathy."Oh, but then I'd miss the chance to see my favorite hawk again."

Clint shot him.

Just the once.

Loki's laugh turned into a snarl as he clutched at his upper arm. 

Clint readjusted his aim back to a headshot. "One reason why I shouldn't keep firing. One."

"Let's see, perhaps because there could still be Chitauri above ground, you idiot fool! I am hidden, but they're not that dull!"

Clint chanced a glance upward. The ground over their heads looked solid enough. Hell, it had looked solid even as he put his foot through it. But then Loki was skilled at making others see what he wanted them to see. Clint shrugged. "Not me they're here for. Let me guess - they're none too happy you screwed up their invasion, huh?"

Loki shot him a withering look as he struggled to get himself in an upright position. It took him a couple minutes of concentrated effort before he managed to get more or less in a sitting position, though he was heavily propped up against a wall. He panted from effort, his skin an unhealthy pallor. Clint was eerily reminded of the first time he saw Loki - pale, sweating, dark circles around his eyes. 

He was still clutching at his arm, the wound bleeding sluggish, soaking through Loki's sleeve.  Clint could make out numerous other dark, damp patches all over Loki's body that indicated additional wounds. Even with the help of the packed earthen wall he leaned against, Loki held himself awkwardly. Like he couldn't sit up straight. And the slow, raspy breathing that first alerted Clint to his presence was still there.

"What happened to you? Thor said you were dead."

"How your little friends must have rejoiced at the news."

Fucker.

"Yeah, that was a great party. There was a parade and everything. Too bad you missed it."

Loki glared at him.

Clint returned the favour, refusing to flinch.

Loki's glare burned away quickly, melting into a more mellow expression. He huffed a small laugh, smile stretched out like he didn't know what to do with it. "And you, Barton? Tell me, did you also rejoice at the news of my passing?"

Clint clamped his teeth together, holding his aim steady.

Loki tilted his head, raising his eyebrows in question. "Well? Did you? Surely you felt a great sense of relief, what with all the terrible wrongs I committed against your person. Did you laugh when you heard? Did you thank a god that was not me? Hmmm?"

"Shut up." Clint snapped and regretted opening his mouth when he heard the thread of unsteadiness in his voice.

Loki laughed again, it sounded more like a loud intake of air than anything. "Oh. I see. How distressing that must have been for you. Terribly awkward to explain I would imagine. Especially to your little spider. Did you pretend all was well? Did you run away and hide so no one would know?"

Clint's gun hand shook. "I said shut the hell up."

"It's all right. I promise I won't tell a soul. _All_ your secrets are safe with me." 

"Fuck you!" Clint spat.

"Such language." Loki sighed as though he expected no better from Clint.

Clint braced his back against the dirt wall as he gathered his legs under him. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet, keeping his arm extended and his grip on his gun firm. Keeping Loki in his sights, he examined his surroundings more closely.

Loki looked unconcerned by his movements, turning his attention to the fresh wound on his arm.

Clint ran his free hand around the surrounding walls, looking for anything out of place. Anything that was hidden from prying eyes. He found nothing. Just earthen walls and hard-packed ground. Some of the little lights got too close. He swatted at them and they evaporated, the light in the hole dimming.

"If it's all the same to you, I prefer not to be sitting in the dark." Loki gave him an unreadable look. "They're just lights, Barton. They cannot harm you."

Clint snorted. "You made them, didn't you?"

"They're just lights," Loki repeated. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. 

Clint stood watching him for several minutes. Loki didn't move save for the rise and fall of his chest. He returned to his examination of the walls. After a minute of silent debate, he holstered his gun. He planted one boot against the wall, found the best possible holds for his hands, and attempted to lever himself up. He jumped away from the wall quickly when the earth under his hands crumbled away, causing a small rain of dirt to come down.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Clint looked over at Loki. His eyes were still closed. 

"What do you think? I'm trying to find a way outta here."

Loki's smile was humourless and he still didn't open his eyes. "And do you think that wise when you have no idea what still roams above our heads."

"I think I'll take my chances, thanks."

Loki opened his eyes at that. "Recklessness does not become you, Agent Barton. You know better."

"You don't know a damn thing about me."

"Oh, I think we both know that just isn't so."

Clint felt his hands curling up into fists as his body grew tense.

Loki raised his eyebrows at the change in posture. "Have I offended you? Odd how some treat the truth with such hostility."

"Yeah, I guess you'd know all about that. Given the rampage you went on just because you found out you were adopted."

"Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you!" Loki snarled. He tried to sit upright only to muffle a gasp and slump back against the wall.

Clint forced himself to relax. He took deep, steady breaths, trying to push away the tension in his muscles. _Keep cool. You're okay. It's okay._ He repeated it to himself like a mantra in a small, soothing voice that sounded like Nat. 

Loki had shut his eyes again. He was sucking breaths in through clenched teeth, clearly in pain. His hand was still wrapped his upper arm. It was still bleeding.

Clint took a step in his direction before he caught himself. "Why aren't you healing that?" The only evidence of Loki's magic he'd seen were the lights and the cover overhead. He was still splayed out on the ground looking like someone had tried to feed him through a meat grinder.

Another soundless laugh. "It would appear some of my enemies have made greater study of my abilities than I realized."

"What does that mean?"

Loki remained silent.

"Hey! What does that mean?"

"They sprung a trap on me. Likely in the misguided belief it would make it easier for them to capture me. My magic has been hindered. Temporarily, of course."

Clint blinked at that. He gestured at the lights and the ceiling illusion wordlessly.

"Simple magics, Barton. Any child can do as much. Healing is an altogether different matter."

"So, what? You just sit there and bleed until they hunt you down?"

"I have no intention of being captured."

"People who get captured rarely do."

"And what would you suggest I do then? By all means, Barton. Advise me."

Clint considered their options. He knew back-up was en route, but was unsure of an ETA. And he wasn't sure he wanted to share the information with Loki, especially given that Thor was likely to be the first to arrive.

He hadn't given much thought to Nat's earlier message informing him that Thor was responding. He didn't see much of Thor, though he knew the guy popped up on Earth from time to time. He helped them out whenever he could. Fights always went a lot smoother and faster when you had the God of Thunder on your team. He wondered if Thor knew Loki was here. If he'd found out his brother was alive and was coming for him, ready to drag him back to his prison on Asgard.

Clint didn't know how to feel about that.

"Any other way out of here? Anything I can't see?"

"Only the way we both came, I'm afraid." Loki's eyes were closed again. His voice sounded weary.

Clint paced in front of him, running through options. He could only take five steps before he reached the wall. Then took five steps back the other way. "So, we sit here and wait? Hope the Chitauri grow tired of playing find-the-Asgardian and pack up and call it a day?"

Loki said nothing.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

Nothing.

"Loki?"

Loki's hand fell away from his arm.

In the next instant, Clint was on his knees in the dirt at Loki's side. He grabbed his uninjured arm and shook him. "Loki. Loki! Wake up!"

Loki's eyes fluttered open. He looked at Clint in confusion before his usual mask of arrogant calm slid into place. "Why Barton, I would almost think you cared."

Clint backed off. "Whatever. You're not leaving me here to deal with your mess."

Loki wrapped his hand around his bullet wound again, hissing as he did so. "Fear not, Barton. I have no intention of dying in the dirt. Not again."

Clint opened his mouth to ask about that when the audible and familiar sound of thunder rolled over their heads. The rumbling sent vibrations through the walls and floor, sending small rivers of dirt spilling down around them. 

Loki looked resigned. "Always so dramatic with his entrances."

"Must run in the family."

Loki make a rude sound in response.

They waited. Clint retreated to the farthest corner away from Loki he could. Thunder continued to roll overhead and with it, the sounds of battle. Clint could hear cracks of lightning, and soon the sound of more mechanical blasts. He and Loki watched each other in silence, each waiting for an opening - Clint to call for help, Loki to find an escape. 

The fighting overhead didn't last that long. It was mostly made up of muffled sounds, minus the weapons and thunder. Clint thought he caught the sound of an engine at one point, but couldn't be certain. Give the sheer volume of noise that sounded like Mother Nature herself was taking names and kicking ass, he didn't have any doubts as to who was winning up there.

A sharp crack of lightning followed by a terrific boom of thunder rained even more dirt down on them. Clint covered his head with his forearms to keep the dirt out of his eyes. When it was clear he uncovered.

Only to find Loki standing a couple feet away. Looking amazingly spry for a guy who hadn't been able to get up only minutes earlier.

"What the hell?"

"Dear Thor. Always he can be counted upon to strike things with Mjolnir before he knows what they are. I suppose I should thank him for destroying that unpleasant weapon."

Harpoon to brain. "The Chitauri. They made something that could block your magic. That's what was going on."

Loki smiled at him, pleased as though Clint had done a particularly clever trick. "Well, not quite. But close enough."

Clint backed up a step. He didn't have any farther to go. His hand hovered back around his sidearm.

Loki followed his motions with his gaze and smirked. "Really, there's no need for further...unpleasantness."

"Now what?"

Loki tilted his head back, looking down his nose at him. "Now?" he said, backing up one step. Then another. "Now I take my leave before the rest of your little friends come in search of you." Loki smiled. It sent ice running down Clint's spine. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Agent Barton. Until next time."

And he was gone.

Clint stood, rooted in place. Loki took his lights and illusions with him. The natural light spilling in from overhead was dimmer than the fairy lights. He made himself move until he was standing under the opening and looked up. He could hear voices.

"Hello?" he called. The voices paused. "Hey! Guys! I'm down here!"

It didn't take long before Nat's head popped over the edge. He could see Steve not far behind her.

"Hey!" she called down. "I was wondering where you'd gone off to." She looked around him. "You okay down there?"

Clint couldn't help it, he laughed.

"Clint?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Nat. I'm good. Could use some help getting out though." 

She exchanged a look with Steve and he backed out of view.

"Hang tight, we'll get you out."

He nodded.

Nat gave his surroundings another once over. "You sure you're okay?" she asked, lowering her voice.

He nodded again. "I'm okay," he repeated, keeping his voice steady. And he was. Okay.

Mostly.

  
  


THE END.


End file.
